


Variety Box

by paintpot



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Ligur Lives (Good Omens), Multi, Murder, Nesting, Other, Smut, hivemind - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintpot/pseuds/paintpot
Summary: Fills for the Good Omens kink meme.Ratings on chapters vary.Will update tags as appropriate.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Disposable Demon/Disposable Demon (Good Omens), Gabriel/Michael/Sandalphon/Uriel (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Michael/Uriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	1. Table of Contents

1\. Table of Contents (where you are right now)

2\. Bigger - E - Gabriel/Beelzebub - CW: Possible Dub-Con? Gabriel's super into it, but he can't really say no either.

3\. Snuggin - G - Crowley/Aziraphale - Sleepy Pollen + Only One Bed 

4\. Devil's Doorbell - M - Crowley/Aziraphale - Turns out the euphemism "devil's doorbell" is truer than first suspected.

5\. Sink - E - Michael/Uriel/Gabriel/Sandalphon - Michael's Archangel status means her heats tend to be very intense. Multiple Alphas are required.

6\. Nest - T - Hastur/Ligur - After everything is over, Hastur retreats to the nest he built for Ligur.

7\. Marriage Bed - E - Michael/Uriel - Michael and Uriel spend a nice evening together.

8\. Union - E - Eric/Eric/Eric+ - Memory works differently when you're one consciousness split among many bodies.


	2. Bigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=2062425#cmt2062425). 
> 
> Hell won the war, and Beelzebub took Gabriel for themselves. A different sort of battle ensues.

“Is- that- all- you’ve got?” Gabriel panted. Beelzebub groaned behind him, slumping over his back, chest heaving. They were out in full force for this, their corporation holding together in the face of their demonic energy by sheer spite and willpower, and somehow, Gabriel just kept asking for more.

“Angel, please, I’m already thicker than both your wrists put together. Any more and I'll break you."

"Don't- don't care." Gabriel gasped, almost sobbing. "Bigger. More. Give- Give me... more." Their cock was already so long it almost wouldn't fit inside Gabriel, but if Gabriel said he wanted more... 

Beelzebub pulled themselves upright with an inhuman effort and willed themselves to be thicker. Gabriel moaned and shivered underneath them. Beelzebub breathed heavily, heart hammering with the effort of keeping their dick hard enough to be functional. They took one more deep breath, and resumed thrusting. Gabriel clutched at the sheets underneath him, shoulders trembling. Beelzebub couldn't see the angel's face, but they dearly hoped the sobs they heard were the ones of an angel reaching their limit. 

"Is that it?" Beelzebub wheezed, head swimming. "Are you satisfied yet?" Gabriel clenched around them and they groaned. 

"...bigger." The blood rushed in Beelzebub's ears as they reached out to steady themself on one of the bedposts. 

"No." They snarled in exasperation. "I... I know I did not just hear you ask for me to be bigger." Gabriel whimpered, pressing back against them. 

"Bigger." He demanded again. Beelzebub threw their hands up in the air. 

"Damn it, Gabriel." They pulled out, sinking back onto the bed, pressing a hand to their forehead. "...I can't." Gabriel rolled over, gazing at them with an unreadable expression.

"What do you mean, you can't?" He whined. 

"I mean I literally, physically, can't." Beelzebub snapped, breath heaving. "If I make my dick any bigger my heart's going to give out." Gabriel's mouth twisted in disappointment. "You gonna say something?" 

"...what do you want me to say?" Gabriel muttered. 

"I... I don't know." Beelzebub flopped back, their dick shrinking back to a more manageable size. "When I picked you out for myself I didn't think this was how you were going to be so exhausting." 

Gabriel shifted back, leaning against the headboard. "I figured if I was going to be stuck down here, I might as well enjoy myself." Beelzebub lifted their head up, gazing at him incredulously. "What?" Gabriel said defensively. 

" _Enjoy_ yourself?" Beelzebub's voice was dangerously close to a shriek.

"Yes." Gabriel snapped. "What did you think I was doing?" 

"I thought you were trying to prove you were tougher than me or something. I thought it was some kind of power play - I didn't think you were _enjoying_ it!" 

"Well, I was, until you stopped just as it was getting good."

"You- you...!" Beelzebub couldn't manage to form words. 

"Don't call me a 'you-you'." Gabriel snarked, grinning sharply. "I thought you were a demon. You can't keep up with me?" 

Beelzebub groaned, chucking a pillow at him. "Oh, shut up. I just hope the others are having a better time."


	3. Snuggin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=2458457#cmt2458457). It's sleepy time, and there's only one bed, oh nooooo/s

"Well, I don't know about you, dear boy, but-" Aziraphale interrupted himself with a yawn. "I, for one, could use a nap." 

"Etherial pollen will do that to you, yeah." Crowley mumbled, swaying slightly on his feet. 

"Considering..." Aziraphale rubbed his eyes, and Crowley's heart gave a flutter. "Considering... what was I going to say?" 

"Mmm..." Crowley thought for a moment. "Nap."

"Right. That's... that's right. I was..." Aziraphale was moving closer to Crowley, but he didn't seem to realize he was doing so. "Nap. Napping. Tickety-boo." 

"Angel." Crowley grinned sloppily. Aziraphale had made it over to Crowley and leaned his forehead against the demon's shoulder. 

"Just-" Aziraphale murmured. "Just hold still." Crowley wrapped an arm around the angel, leaning forward against him. 

"I would if I could, but I think if I spend another moment on my feet, I might end up taking that nap on the floor." 

"Oh." Aziraphale's brow wrinkled. "That... That won't do at all." The angel pulled back, glancing around. "I... I have... I don't use it much but..." 

"What is it?"

"I have a bed, but... it's just the one. I only keep this place for emergencies, really." 

"Emergencies, huh?" Crowley laughed breathily. "And the bookshelves?" Aziraphale laid his head back on Crowley's shoulder, cheeks reddening.

"It felt sort of empty without them." Crowley nodded, curling his other arm around his angel... His angel? That sounded right. To bed, then, for a nice long snooze. Aziraphale stepped back, reaching for Crowley's hand and twining their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world, before pulling Crowley towards the back room.

True to Aziraphale's word, there was only the one bed, and Crowley was summarily pushed towards it. "Hey, hey." He said, dragging his feet some. "What about you?" Aziraphale paused, as if the thought of where he would sleep hadn't occurred to him.[1]

"Oh." He murmured. "I... I suppose..." 

"I don't want to put you out, angel." Crowley tried to rotate them so Aziraphale was closer to the bed. "It's your bed." 

"I can sleep on the floor." Aziraphale protested weakly. "It's fine..."

"I won't hear it, angel." Crowley succeeded in positioning them how he liked. "You take the bed."

"No..." Aziraphale was having trouble keeping his eyes open, but he still pushed ineffectually against Crowley's chest. "You take it. I want you to have it." 

"You should take it. It's yours." 

"But I want you to have it." 

Crowley was rapidly losing access to his more complex brain functions, but even in his sleep-addled state, he could see that this was clearly not going to get them anywhere. The bed was big enough to share... New plan.

"I suppose." He pretended to concede, allowing Aziraphale to push him onto the bed. 

"See?" Aziraphale grinned sleepily. "There we go." 

"Just one more thing I need, angel." Crowley said, before grabbing the angel's wrist and pulling Aziraphale on top of him. 

"Oof." Aziraphale gasped, laying on the demon's chest, blinking up at Crowley with those big blue eyes. "What-?"

"I'm terribly cold, you see." Crowley grinned. "I'm going to need a nice warm angel to keep me company." Aziraphale looked to where Crowley's hand was still wrapped around his wrist, before sighing in resignation. 

"Wily serpent." He breathed fondly. 

"Maybe so." Crowley rolled them so they were laying side by side, facing each other. "But you wouldn't trade me for anyone else."

"...no." Aziraphale curled closer to Crowley, closing his eyes. Crowley had just enough awareness to pull a blanket over them both before he too drifted off. 

***

Aziraphale woke some time later, blinking sleepily. Why couldn't he move his arm?  
...because Crowley was laying on top of it. That would explain things. Aziraphale knew he should get up, should see the state of things, but instead Aziraphale closed his eyes again, and went back to sleep. 

***

Crowley wrinkled his nose, refusing to open his eyes. He felt like he needed to sneeze, but... He opened one eye just enough to see that his nose was buried in Aziraphale's curls. A minor repositioning solved that problem, and Aziraphale snuggled back into his chest, still breathing deeply. Crowley stroked his fingers through Aziraphale's feather-soft hair, the texture giving him a sort of easy, primal pleasure, before he closed his eyes again. 

***

Aziraphale woke again, feeling cold. Opening his eyes revealed the blankets piled at the foot of the bed, and Crowley on the far side. Aziraphale tried to shove down the wave of disappointment that swelled in his chest, and he tried to roll over, but something stopped him. Looking down revealed that their fingers were intertwined. His heart fluttered, and he felt tears well in his eyes. Crowley, even as deeply asleep as he was, seemed to sense his distress, and rolled back over, flopping an arm around Aziraphale's middle. Aziraphale tried to pull away, but Crowley growled, yanking him back, curling his limbs around the angel. Aziraphale looked down, expecting to see the familiar yellow of Crowley's eyes, but they were still shut tight. Crowley interrupted his contemplation with a snore. Aziraphale could feel sleep wash back over him, and it was easy to give in. 

***

Crowley blinked his eyes open. Lifting his head up to take in the situation revealed Aziraphale curled up with him, their legs intertwined, bodies pressed close. Crowley knew he should probably get up, but Aziraphale was so warm and soft in his arms, it was almost laughably easy to pull the angel closer [2] and press his cheek into the angel's curls. His stomach churned, and a flash of love something curled inside his chest. "Precious thing." He murmured, secure in the knowledge that Aziraphale was lost in his dreams. "Wish you could see yourself how I see you." Crowley swallowed heavily, and pressed a single, chaste kiss to Aziraphale's cheek. "Sometimes I wish you'd run away with me. I know you couldn't stand to leave, though. Not until the end of things. You'd miss your books, and eating, and walks in the park, and those operas. And I couldn't bear to see you be so sad. So I won't ask you just yet." Crowley allowed himself one more stroke of his angel's hair before he pulled himself from Aziraphale's embrace. Even asleep, Aziraphale reached for him, and it took everything Crowley had to lift himself from the bed. "Just a little longer, angel." He whispered. "Just a little longer and we'll be there." Crowley knew very well that if he stayed in that room a moment longer he would be pouring out his soul in a love confession for the ages. And that simply wouldn't be very demonic at all. Crowley couldn't leave just yet, not when the wards around the flat were keyed to Aziraphale, but he could remove himself from the immediate urge to crawl back in bed with his angel and never leave. It was safer this way. Crowley couldn't look back, but if he had, he would have seen Aziraphale's eyes flutter open, and the angel's hand drift to his cheek.

***  
Coda~

"Did you find anything?" Ligur picked up his familiar, allowing the reptile to twine its tail around his hand. "Hmm." Ligur contemplated going upstairs to give Crowley shit for snuggling with an angel, but looking back at his own bed put a stop to that train of thought very quickly. His chameleon was sent off to do whatever it did when it wasn't with him, and Ligur toed his slippers off, sliding back under the covers.

"Anything interesting happening?" Michael murmured, voice husky.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"Will you two shut up?" Hastur grumbled from where he was wrapped around Michael's torso. " 'M trying to sleep here."

"Sorry, love." Ligur slid up behind Hastur, pressing against the other demon's back.

"No you're not." Hastur muttered. Ligur breathed out a chuckle.

"Only a tiny bit."

"Shh." Michael tugged him closer, and pressed her forehead against his. "We're sleeping now." Ligur nodded, and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. It hadn't. [return to text]
> 
> 2\. Metaphorically, of course. They were already about as close as two entities with physical bodies could be. [return to text]


	4. Devil's Doorbell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=2490457#cmt2490457). Lucifer would like to sleep, please and thank you.

Crowley was close, so close, heat coiling in his belly, breath heavy, whimpers escaping his throat. “Zi- Zira.” He gasped. “-ziraphale, please, please, don’t stop, don’t stop, oh, yes yes yes-“ Aziraphale glanced up from where his mouth was tending to Crowley’s cunt. His response was muffled, but Crowley could make out enough of it. “Yes, yes, please, I’m so close, please, please-“ 

“WHAT DO YOU WANT???” A mighty roar[1] exploded the door in a shower of wood dust and Crowley screamed.[2] Aziraphale choked, tripped over himself, spun around, frantically looked for a weapon, something, anything. When the dust cleared, Crowley was holding a pillow to cover himself, and Aziraphale was wielding a heavy book[3], and they were both singularly horrified to recognize the Devil standing before them. “What do you want?” Lucifer hissed, slightly out of breath.[4] "I'm here. You've got my attention. Tell me what you want so I can go back to bed." Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other in confusion. 

"We didn't call you." Crowley said slowly. Lucifer rubbed a hand over his face, and Aziraphale noticed the bags under his eyes.

"You know, at first I thought this was just an occasional thing, and I didn't think it was worth the trouble of coming up here. Once in a while I can deal with, whatever, it's fine, that's all well and good, but I have been hearing you two for _three days_." Lucifer's voice increased steadily in pitch and volume. "My ears have been ringing for _THREE FUCKING DAYS_." He took a slow, deliberate breath, and spoke again, more measured, but still with a shred of crazed exasperation. "Who do I have to kill to get some blessed peace and quiet?" Aziraphale could see Lucifer's left eye twitch.

"We've been in this bed since last week, we haven't- oh." Crowley's eyes suddenly widened. "You mean-" Lucifer nodded, then pulled a nearby chair over and sank into it, exhaling heavily.

"Yes."

"It's true?"

"Yes."

"So every time I-"

" _Yes_." 

"When we-"

"YES, YES, THE ANSWER IS YES."

"Would one of you mind telling me what exactly is happening?" Aziraphale interrupted, somewhat put out at being ignored. Crowley looked at Lucifer, who was sinking further and further into the chair, rubbing his temples.

"...have you ever heard the euphemism 'the devil's doorbell', angel?" Crowley asked.

“I don’t believe I have, dear boy.” 

"You live in Soho!"

"And I spend almost all of my free time in my bookshop. Your point?" Crowley sighed, knowing there was no way around it.

“It’s, ah-“ Crowley flushed pink[5], and breathed deeply. "It's... it's vulgar slang for a clit."

"So?"

“He's here because... we... it’s... my clit, Angel.” Crowley was steadily turning redder.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Supposedly, when you play with your clit, you’re said to be ringing the devil’s doorbell." 

Things suddenly clicked. All Aziraphale could manage was a quiet “Oh.” Lucifer nodded, eyes closed. 

"First you two ruin my perfectly terrible apocalypse, then you have the gall to not die when you're supposed to, and just to add insult to injury you're keeping me awake because you can't keep your blessed hands off his clit for five minutes!" 

"Tongue, actually-" Aziraphale began, eyes glinting, before Lucifer yelled.

" _I don't want to hear that!_ " Crowley tried to muffle his snicker by turning it into a cough. 

"So what do you two want? What do I need to do to get you two to stop humping each other long enough for me to take a nap?" 

"Oh, honestly, we're not rabbits-" 

"Angel-" Crowley tugged Aziraphale back onto the bed before directing his attention back to Lucifer. "-can we talk about this for a second?" 

"Go ahead. I'm going to just... borrow your couch, for an hour, or two, or ten. Maybe a couple of days." Lucifer hefted himself out of the chair and staggered out the door and down the hall.

Aziraphale, setting his book down, reached for the towel he had set aside earlier, and the bowl of water beside it. "I suppose the mood is well and truly spoiled now." He sighed, wetting the towel and applying it to Crowley's swollen folds. Crowley bit his lip to keep from moaning. 

"I don't know, angel." Crowley tried to keep his voice even, but it came out somewhat high-pitched. "Keep touching me like that and the mood might come back. I never did get that orgasm you promised." 

"I suppose you didn't-" Aziraphale slid the cloth up to caress Crowley's-

"AHHHHHH!" 

"...oops."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. And a decisive kick. [return to text]
> 
> 2\. He would later deny the sound he had made had been anything other than a battle yell, but that’s neither here nor there. [return to text]
> 
> 3\. A bible, amusingly enough. [return to text]
> 
> 4\. He had sprinted four streets to get to the bookshop.[†] [return to text]
> 
> †. All the way from the accounting firm/brothel/general base of operations Hell had set up in Soho back in the 1920s and then rented out a few years after. The current inhabitants were shocked, to say the least, when the Devil burst out of their basement and stormed out the front door.[return to text]
> 
> 5\. Which was a little surprising, as Aziraphale had been ringing Crowley's 'doorbell' just moments before. [return to text]


	5. Sink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=2548313#cmt2548313). 
> 
> Michael's heats are difficult, but she has her Alphas to help her through.

Five days in, and Michael’s Alphas were rotating in and out, tending to her, providing her comfort, and resting, which really meant making sure Heaven didn’t fall apart while the Archangels were otherwise occupied. Her heat was almost over, the terrible need of the first few days quenched, and there was one more day to go before she would sleep the haze off, but until then her heat would give her a singular, desperate desire to be filled.

“How are you feeling?” 

Michael blinked, registering the question, and hummed in response, her heat-fogged mind not quite capable of words at the moment. Someone - Gabriel - knelt by her head and smoothed her hair back. His hands were refreshingly cool, a welcome change from the warm stickiness that came with a heat. 

“Okay, no words. Can you maybe nod for us, sweetheart, if you like what’s happening?” Michael blinked slowly, and nodded. Yes, she liked it. She liked it quite a bit. She was with her mates, safe and secure in their nest, her Alphas were pleased with her, she was being bred, everything was lovely. Gabriel smiled, warm and affectionate, returning those large, cool hands to her face. “Thank you, darling.”

Michael gave a pleased purr as she caught a whiff of fresh arousal, and she nuzzled at Gabriel’s stirring cock. “Yes, all right.” He crooned indulgently, before turning to Uriel. “Uriel, do you need a break?”

“I could use one. We’re still knotted, though.” Uriel murmured, slightly out of breath, face flushed, thumbs still rubbing idle circles on Michael’s hips. “Give me a moment.” Gabriel nodded, and drew in a sharp breath as Michael got tired of merely nuzzling and started in with her tongue. 

Uriel’s knot deflated in short order, and she began to pull back, causing Michael to give a whine of uneasy displeasure. “Shh.” Gabriel soothed, stroking his hand through her hair. “You’re okay.” Uriel eased her knot out of Michael’s cunt, and the length of her cock followed in a rush of mingled slick and cum. Michael whined again, squirming in discomfort, and Gabriel quickly moved to take Uriel’s place. "You're all right." He soothed, pressing the head of his cock past Michael’s swollen, glistening folds. "Here we go." Michael moaned in relief, an ache inside her soothed as she was stretched on Gabriel’s cock. "Better?" Gabriel rubbed a hand down her back, and Michael nodded, pressing back against Gabriel's pelvis. Uriel sank down beside her, reaching over to stroke Michael's cheek before gently taking her hand.

"Hello, darling." Uriel said quietly. Michael could only seem to muster a sort of mumbled reply, her eyes half-closed, but she was pleased to see Uriel all the same.

Gabriel began to thrust, and Michael cooed in pleasure, arching her back, stretching her wings, sinking luxuriously into the cushions underneath her. Uriel took the opportunity to carefully position Michael's wing in her lap, straightening the feathers, removing the damaged quills, before reaching for a bottle of oil[1] and beginning to carefully coax Michael's pin feathers from their sheaths. Michael would shed her heat plumage in a few weeks, but for now Uriel got to marvel at the spectacular blues and greens her Omega currently sported. 

Michael was drawn from her daze as she caught the scent of citrus, a hand carefully brushing through the feathers of her other wing. _Sandalphon._ Her mind supplied somewhere in the fog. She lifted her head up, and Sandalphon cupped her cheek in one hand, smoothing a cool, damp cloth across her face with the other. Michael pressed into the touch, and Sandalphon rumbled, deep in his chest. The sound was comforting, and Michael gave an answering purr. Sandalphon moved away from her face, and began to rub the aching muscles of her back. Her Alphas were so thoughtful, remembering how her heats made her wings and back so terribly sore. Gabriel was thick and warm and soothing inside her, his presence a balm for the heat-want, and Sandalphon and Uriel were allaying her pain. She was tired, but not yet sated, and it was a lovely thing that she could rely on her Alphas to care for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Uriel was particularly proud of this blend. Something about it seemed to be especially soothing for Omegas in heat. [return to text]


	6. Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=1904473).
> 
> Hastur reflects on the nest he built for Ligur as he grieves.

Hastur curled up around Ligur's pillow and sobbed, ugly, painful tears streaming from his sore eyes. He had been here for so long it felt like an eternity. Here, in the nest he had built for Ligur with his own two hands, that he had never gotten to share. Everything, from the soil and moss that made up the floor to the great black tree that towered over it all, had been chosen specifically with Ligur in mind. Hastur couldn't remember a time where he hadn't loved Ligur in some way. It was safe to say, now, at the end of things. No one could use his love to hurt him, save for Ligur, who had gone away and hurt him most of all. Hastur screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

* * *

Not all supernatural entities chose to nest as a courtship display, as making a nest for another required an astonishing degree of consideration and labor to be successful, but a well-constructed nest was one of the most dramatic, reliable ways of declaring one's intentions. Hastur had wanted no mistakes, no possible way for Ligur to misinterpret his aims.

Hastur had first set upon the idea of making a nest for Ligur way back in the 1000s BC. He had started by digging into the dirt beneath the floor of their rooms[1], and eventually he had hollowed out a sizable cavern, enough room for a luxuriously spacious nest. Considering his time was almost entirely split between paperwork and lurking with Ligur, it took him a few centuries to be satisfied, but finally, the space was complete. 

The next thing he needed was a tree. It had taken him almost a thousand years to grow a black tree from a seed, watered dutifully with blood and given regular fertilizer of bones and shed feathers. Hastur had used his own feathers for the task, and the very few of Ligur's that he had managed to snag. Feathers were incredibly important to keep track of, seeing as they were a very personal item that could be used in all manner of summoning and binding rituals, and Hastur considered it a very promising sign when Ligur had let him keep one on occasion. All of them went to the tree, except for the very first.

The first one was placed in his box - a solid thing of cold iron, cursed in every manner Hastur could think of to ward off intruders - along with some of his most prized possessions - the first dagger he had ever made, used to ruin and then carefully squirreled away, the strip of fabric Ligur had wrapped around his arm after an especially ill tempered wrath demon had taken a chunk out of it, a lock of hair from the last body Ligur had inhabited before he managed to get himself discorporated, three angel feathers he had managed to rip out of one of the wanker's wings, and hidden down below everything else, the ring. 

The ring, his most recent acquisition, had been a gift from Ligur, picked up while the two of them were wandering about in the 1800s. Earlier that day, they had been lurking near a jeweler's shop, and Hastur had wandered in alone and happened upon the ring display. Hastur had been presenting feminine then, and the shopkeeper had asked if she was looking for a wedding ring, and even showed her a couple of designs. Hastur's eye had been drawn to a simple gold band, adorned only with a ruby the color of fresh blood. 

Ligur had entered in time to hear Hastur point the ring out, but the entire affair had quickly soured after that when the shopkeeper managed to recognize Ligur, roundly insult the both of them, and accuse them of being thieves [2] in the span of two sentences. Hastur had initially marked the shopkeeper down for a very nasty death to be delivered later after she had thought up something appropriately unpleasant, but then Ligur, who had always been the more direct of the two, had ended up simply eating the shopkeeper alive and then burning the store down. Hastur had never seen anything so attractive in her life, especially when Ligur had thrown her a decent chunk of the shopkeeper's carcass.

Much later, when the two of them were back downstairs and drunk, Ligur had wordlessly dropped the ring into her hand and gone back to his bottle. Hastur, who was much more adept at keeping her wits about her when drinking, had waited until Ligur had fallen asleep and then hidden the ring down in her box. 

* * *

Hastur had dreamt of children once, back before the miserable excuse of an Antichrist had even been conceived. Tiny little things, half-him and half-Ligur, squirming and writhing in their eggs, growing up into proper demons with Ligur's determined eyes. Hastur had dug a pond in his nest after that dream - murky and deep, mossy green and sludge dark, placed snugly between the roots of the enormous tree, truly one of Hastur's finest works. 

It was this pond he was laying in now, half-in and half-out, in the cool darkness of the nest. He had stopped screaming, too tired to do much of anything. His frog was beside him, occasionally burbling from where it was laying on a rock under the water. Hastur reached down and turned the frog over, but it merely flattened back out on the rock and closed its eyes again. Hastur glanced over at the stockpile of food that he had carefully hoarded up near the trunk of the tree. Everything Ligur had ever mentioned not hating was secured in a carefully selected space. None of it was appealing now. He hadn't eaten since Ligur had left him, but he couldn't manage to make himself do it, even as he faded. 

Hastur sunk deeper into the mud, opening his hand to see the small pieces of Ligur's skin from his last shed. Unlike Hastur, who shed all at once, Ligur shed bit by bit. Ligur's method of shedding worked to Hastur's advantage - Ligur usually ate the skin he shed, but sometimes he got distracted, and merely scratched it off and let it fall to the floor. It was easy then for Hastur to pick up the small pieces of skin and sneak off with them. They were all Hastur had of Ligur, now. Hastur brought them to his chest, and curled up tighter with Ligur’s pillow. 

It was rare, very rare, but sometimes, when two beings were as closely entwined as Hastur and Ligur had been, the death of one would mean the death of the other a short while after. It wasn’t fully understood, but the general consensus was that something vital, deep inside the surviving partner, was irreparably broken. What followed was a predictable, tragic pattern: a retreat to a comfortable space, a loss of desire to do anything except to be close to the departed’s corporation or possessions, a slow decline into senselessness, and finally, the grieving partner would fade to nothing. This was what was happening to Hastur now. He closed his eyes, and let himself drift, the lingering scent of Ligur's pillow a final comfort. 

* * *

“Hastur?” A voice called to him in the dark. “Hastur, where are we?” He knew that voice... 

“Hastur?” Something... no, someone, was touching him, lifting him up. Hastur couldn’t muster the will to open his eyes, let alone speak. “Hastur, don’t leave me here alone. Come back to me.” Something pressed against his cheek, a little dry. Were they... fingers? Hastur struggled back towards awareness, but he hadn’t eaten in so long, he couldn’t find the strength. There was a sharp little sound, and soon something damp was being pressed to his mouth. Water. Water was good. Finally, his eyes opened just a crack. There was a dark shape above him, almost black, blending in with the shadows. “Hastur? That’s it, love, lean on me.” Hastur was cradled close to a warm chest, and he closed his eyes again, almost letting himself enjoy it. He was fading, and this was likely his mind trying to give him an easy exit. But... why would the shape be asking him to stay? “Hastur? My darling frog, speak to me, please. Something. Anything.” Something brightened before him, shining through his numbness. Mmm, no, he was going to where Ligur was, why was it so bright?

" _Hastur_." That was Ligur's voice. It was damp, why was it damp? Was Ligur sad? " _Hastur, I did not spend forty days and nights arguing with Mother just for me to get back here and have you leave me. So help me, if you don't wake up this instant..._ " Ligur was sad, Hastur didn't want him to be sad, Hastur wanted him to be happy. Hastur blinked-

-and was back in his body, staring up at a familiar face. "Ligur?" He croaked in disbelief.

"Hastur." Ligur breathed in relief. "Oh, Hastur, don't do that to me. Never again." Hastur smiled to himself at the thought of being reunited with Ligur. Now, if only his socks weren't wet- Wet. Why were his socks wet? He shouldn't have socks, unless- Hastur looked around frantically. He was still in their nest. But then how was Ligur here? 

"How are you here?"

"Later." Ligur murmured. "Just be here with me." 

"N-no." Hastur stammered, suddenly panicking, clutching at Ligur's shirt. "No, you died, I watched you die, you _died_ , you _left me_ , how are you here?" 

"I took a swan dive out Mother's window." Ligur rubbed his thumb over Hastur's wet cheek, ignoring the way Hastur sputtered. "I'll tell you about it later. There's something important I have to tell you first."

"What is it?" 

"I..." Ligur looked uncomfortable for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. "I... respect you. You're the best damn partner I've ever had, and... what I'm tryin' to say is... I..." Ligur lowered his voice, leaning in very close. "I... like you. To a fairly significant degree." The shriveled husk in Hastur's chest did a little flip. "I know you might not feel the sa-mmph-"

Hastur had wrapped his arms around Ligur's neck and dragged the other demon into a kiss. Ligur tasted of smoke and salt, bittersweet perfection. What thrilled Hastur most, though, was that Ligur kissed back, and curled his fingers into Hastur's hair. Thousands of years of repressed feelings came pouring out in their kiss. Back and forth, nipping, licking, tugging, Hastur opened his mouth to gasp for air, and Ligur's tongue managed to make it all the way to the back of Hastur's throat. Hastur could feel his toes curl and a delicious chill run up his spine.

They finally broke apart, breathing heavily. "Ligur." Hastur could feel tears in his eyes, and he was suddenly glad they were still in the pond.[3] "You're really here?" 

"I am." Ligur murmured. "I'm right here and I'm never leaving you again." They nuzzled together for a long while, trading kisses, before Ligur pulled away and they stood up. Ligur finally managed to take a proper look around. "Now, would you mind explainin' just where we are?" Hastur turned a shade of red to rival a tomato.

"Well, I, ah..." He stalled. "I... might have... built a nest?"

Several emotions flashed over Ligur's face in quick succession, before he settled on a murderous jealousy. "For who?" He snarled. 

"For you, idiot." Hastur snapped. The rant Ligur was working himself up to abruptly died off, leaving the demon speechless.

"For- me?" Ligur asked when he managed to remember how words worked. 

"Yes, for you. Who else was I gonna build a nest for?" Ligur looked around him with new eyes.

"For me? All of this?" Ligur's voice was unsure. Hastur nodded, suddenly nervous. 

"I can change it, anything you want different I can-" Ligur suddenly yanked Hastur closer to him. 

"Don't you change a damn thing." He husked. "Now, what do you say we break this nest in?" Hastur swallowed heavily as he felt two distinct bulges press against his groin.

"Oh, yes." That was all he managed to get out before Ligur had dragged him down to the soft, mossy floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. They had been next-door to each other since almost the very beginning, and were often referred to by other demons as Hastur-and-Ligur, seeing as they were practically never separate. [return to text]
> 
> 2\. Certainly not unfounded, considering the two of them had been seen robbing more than a handful of places in that town for shits and giggles the previous evening, but still, it was unwise to criticize demons. [return to text]
> 
> 3\. Hastur, amphibious by nature, kept himself very well hydrated, which meant things also tended to get very wet when he cried. [return to text]


	7. Marriage Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=1600601#cmt1600601).
> 
> Sometimes, Michael and Uriel go down to Earth and play a game.

“Going somewhere special?” Uriel turned to see Michael standing in the doorway.

“There’s a gallery opening tonight. I’m going to look around.”

“You look nice.” Michael murmured. 

“You think so?” Uriel smoothed her hands down over her blouse. “I don’t usually dress up.” 

“I’ve always said red was your color.” Uriel narrowed her eyes at this.

“Really? Because the last time I went out you said green was my color. And the time before that it was yellow.” Michael shrugged, walking forward.

“You look nice in lots of colors. And besides-“ Michael grinned slyly. “You blush when I give you compliments.” Uriel looked away, feeling her cheeks flush

“Stop.” She pushed playfully against Michael’s chest. Michael breathed out a laugh and wrapped her arms around Uriel’s waist.

“I’ll be here when you get back.” Michael nuzzled into Uriel’s neck. 

“You always a-ahh-“ Uriel’s sentence trailed off into a moan as Michael kissed her way up towards Uriel’s ear. “Mm-Michael, Michael, not now.” Michael pulled away, humming in disappointed acquiescence. 

“I miss you when you go.” Michael stroked her thumb over Uriel’s cheek.

“You could always come with me.” Uriel suggested after a moment. 

“I suppose I could.” 

“Maybe...” Uriel licked her lips, and pressed her hands to Michael’s chest, leaning in close. “Afterwards we could find a room...” Uriel’s voice had dropped to a purr. “...and we could do that thing...” Michael’s eyes flashed. 

“Oh, you temptress.” She hissed, pulling Uriel flush against her before claiming her mouth. Uriel let Michael kiss her breathless, smiling to herself. 

* * *

“That was lovely, darling” Uriel murmured as they walked down the street towards the place they had chosen. Michael grinned, falling into the familiar roll. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” They entered through the ornate doors, and Uriel held Michael’s arm tighter as they approached the glossy counter. 

“Welcome. How can I help you?” The receptionist smiled brightly. 

“We’ve booked a room under D’Angelo.” Michael replied smoothly, wrapping an arm around Uriel’s waist. 

“Of course.” The receptionist’s nails clicked quietly against the keyboard for a moment. “Are you two newlyweds?” 

“We’re taking another honeymoon.” Michael replied, nuzzling her nose against Uriel’s. 

“Well, you two certainly make a beautiful couple. Have you been married long?” 

“It seems longer than I can remember.” Uriel said. She and Michael smiled at each other and at their own little private joke. 

“I hope you two have many years of happiness ahead of you.” The receptionist focused on her screen for a moment. “Ah, yes, here we are.” She stood up and went to retrieve a key ring from the back wall. “Floor 12, room 7.” She said, handing the keys to Michael. “Is there anything you need sent up immediately?” 

“I think we’re all right.” Uriel murmured. 

“Excellent. If you need anything feel free to call down.” Michael nodded graciously. 

“We will. Thank you.” They left the desk and took the elevator up. Uriel leaned against Michael as they ascended, blinking innocently at her when Michael looked over. "Same word as before?" Michael trailed a finger down Uriel’s cheek as she spoke. 

"Eden." Uriel smiled, sweet and sensual in equal parts. 

"Excellent." The elevator pinged, and they exited, still arm-in-arm, footsteps muffled on the soft carpet. Room 7 was down at the end of the hall, next to the enormous glass window that looked out on the city. Uriel went past the door to stare out at the lights. Michael unlocked the door to their room and looked around, before coming back to stand at Uriel’s side. 

“It’s amazing how far they’ve come in such a short time. Such short lives, yet they make such beautiful things.” Uriel said after a moment. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” Michael slid her arm around Uriel’s waist. “I’d say the most beautiful thing here is the angel on my arm.” 

“Idle flattery.” Uriel attempted to fix Michael with a stern glare, but it came out more fondly exasperated than anything else.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.” Michael insisted, leaning in to press her lips to Uriel’s jaw, then kissing her way up towards Uriel’s temple.

“Not in the hallway.” Uriel protested, even as she tilted her head to give Michael a better angle. 

“Whatever makes you happy, my dearest.” Michael husked, before scooping a giggling Uriel into her arms and carrying her into their room, swinging the door closed behind them. Michael laid Uriel back on the luxuriously soft sheets, and Uriel stretched out, her dark skin a stunning contrast to the soft cream. “Beautiful.” Michael murmured, taking a moment to admire her. “Gorgeous. Best and brightest of all.” 

“Stop.” Uriel demurred. 

“Can I not admire my wife?” Michael’s voice was smooth and silky, sending tingles down Uriel’s spine. 

“Your wife would like more than pretty words to keep her warm.” Uriel stretched, baring the smooth expanse of her throat. A knot formed deep in Michael’s belly. She hadn't made an effort yet, so it was still just a pleasantly dull ache, but she found that waiting made the act that much sweeter.

“And what kind of husband would I be if I left my wife to freeze?” Michael toed off her shoes, divested her partner of her heels, and finally laid herself down beside Uriel, before carefully undoing the ribbon at Uriel’s throat. The collar of Uriel’s top fell open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of Uriel’s collarbones. Michael forced herself to concentrate, slowly stroking a finger from the base of Uriel’s throat to where the fabric of her top split apart. Uriel brought Michael’s hand up to her mouth, pressing tender kisses to Michael’s fingers. Michael pulled her hand back, pressing her mouth to Uriel’s once more, using her tongue to distract the angel beside her as she unbuttoned Uriel’s top and tossed the cloth to the sides. Uriel’s bra was quickly dispatched right after [1], leaving her small breasts bare. “There we are.” Michael breathed, lowering her head to taste Uriel’s soft skin.

“Mmm...” Uriel arched into Michael’s mouth as Michael trailed lower. “Oh, _oh_...” Michael was too busy tonguing Uriel’s pert nipple to reply. “ _Darling_...” Michael hummed in response, and Uriel’s toes curled. Michael’s mouth was soft and pleasantly warm, her hand sliding up to stroke Uriel’s unattended breast. Uriel could feel the need growing within her belly, her vulva aching to be touched. Michael pulled back, pressing one final kiss to Uriel’s nipple, before straddling Uriel’s hips and turning her attention to Uriel’s other breast. Uriel hooked her foot around Michael’s calf as the other angel suckled at her nipple. “It’s not that I dislike the attention- _ahh_ \- but I was hoping you would also be getting undressed at some point.” Michael looked up through her dark lashes, her mouth still latched firmly to Uriel’s breast. Uriel squirmed under the intensity of Michael’s gaze, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. Michael pulled her mouth away from Uriel’s nipple and pressed their lips together, unbuttoning her own shirt with brisk movements before stripping it off and tossing it aside. Michael had foregone a bra in favor of an undershirt, which quickly joined her top on the floor, leaving Michael in nothing but her trousers and socks. 

“Does this please, beloved?” Michael crooned, settling herself between Uriel’s thighs and stroking her knuckles over Uriel’s cheek.   
Uriel trailed her fingers down Michael’s firm chest, wrapping her legs around the back of Michael’s thighs and drawing the other angel forward, lifting her hips up to touch Michael’s groin. “You please me very well, husband, but I want to feel you within me, now.” Michael pressed one more lingering kiss to Uriel’s lips, before Uriel pulled her legs away and Michael moved back to unfasten Uriel’s trousers. Uriel lifted her hips once more, and Michael tugged the fabric away, pressing a kiss to Uriel’s mound over the fabric of her panties. Uriel twisted her hips in anticipation, and Michael dragged her tongue along the wet spot darkening the silk. 

“Don’t tease.” Uriel pouted. “Please, darling, play nice.” 

“Anything you like, beloved.” Michael murmured, before she slid Uriel’s panties down and pulled off both those and Uriel’s trousers. Michael pressed a proper kiss to Uriel’s mound, just above her clitoris, and Uriel curled her toes, trying not to arch into Michael’s mouth. “Feeling good?” 

“Oh, yes.” Uriel breathed as Michael spread her outer labia open, revealing her inner folds and just a hint of the sweet pinkness beyond. “Oh, _darling_.” Michael had passed the tip of her tongue up over Uriel’s folds, slow and sensual. Uriel spread her legs wider, a whimper escaping her as Michael delved deeper. “Ahh, Michael, Michael, Michael.” She sighed. Michael took her time, gentle and sweet as she thoroughly tended to Uriel’s sensitive flesh. She knew exactly what Uriel liked, how to coax those lovely sounds from the angel underneath her, and she reveled in the way Uriel pressed against her mouth for more, more, more, one hand in Michael’s hair, the other twisted in the bedsheet. “Oh, yes, right there, right there, please, please.” Michael settled into her position, licking over Uriel’s inner labia, the tip of her tongue ghosting over Uriel’s clit with every pass. “Mmm, oh, darling.” Michael made to pull back and readjust, but Uriel’s hand clenched in her hair. “Don’t stop.” Uriel whimpered. “Please, darling, don’t stop.” Michael returned to her position, focusing in on the sensitive bud crowning Uriel’s gorgeous slit. She grinned to herself as she suckled, and Uriel’s wailing cries got higher and higher. Michael could tell Uriel was about to crest from the way she shivered and trembled under Michael’s tongue, and she held steady; one, two, three more strokes and Uriel was gushing, crying out, arching off the bed in a spectacular finish. Michael grinned, licking the slick from her chin, pressing a kiss to Uriel’s inner thigh. 

Climax always left Uriel pliant and relaxed, but even in her comfortable haze she reached out for Michael. Michael obliged, letting Uriel take her hand and pull her closer. “What of you, husband?” Uriel murmured when she had gotten her breath back. 

“What of me?” 

“Will you take your pleasure?” Michael had propped herself up on an arm, her free hand toying with one of Uriel’s nipples. Uriel reached up to cup Michael’s cheek, admiring how the last rays of sunlight shining through the window gave Michael a subtle sort of glow. 

“If you are content, beloved, then I am content.” 

“And if I wish for more?” Uriel draped her leg over Michael’s. “What if I am not yet satisfied, husband?” 

“Then I am duty-bound to see you sated.” Michael grinned. “What else can I do for my beloved?” Uriel pulled Michael back on top of her. 

“I want...” Uriel began, before wrapping an arm around Michael’s neck and tugging her closer.

“What do you want?” 

“I want a child, husband. I want my belly to swell with life. Will you give me what I want, my darling? Will you fill me?”

“Yes.” Michael hissed, her eyes flashing. “ _Yes_.” Uriel cupped a hand over Michael’s groin, and was immensely pleased to find Michael had already made the appropriate effort. 

“Then fill me, darling.” She crooned, squeezing gently. “Show me you love me.” 

“Always.” Michael stroked Uriel’s cheek with one hand, unbuttoning her trousers with the other. “Always and always.” They kissed, and then Michael pulled away to finish removing her clothing. Uriel watched with bated breath as Michael settled over her once more. Michael's cock was thick, and pleasingly long, and Uriel ached for it, reaching between them to gently guide it into position.

"I love you." Michael pressed her face into Uriel's neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you." This was always real, no matter what parts they played, what titles they dressed up with. Uriel wrapped herself around Michael's chest, and they kissed again, tender and sweet. Michael carefully moved her hips, rocking back and forth, slicking her cock against Uriel's folds. Uriel whimpered into Michael's mouth as she moved, the head of her cock brushing against Uriel's clit with every thrust. "I love you too." Uriel pressed her forehead to Michael's. “Michael, my Michael. Please, don’t make me wait.” 

“Never, beloved.” Michael carefully spread Uriel’s labia, and kissed Uriel one more time before pressing the head of her cock just inside. Uriel made a satisfied sigh as Michael moved forward, and she wrapped her legs around Michael’s waist, relaxing back into the pillow. Their hips met, and Michael squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in Uriel's neck. "You feel so good." She breathed. "Uriel, my love, my heart, you're so soft and sweet around me." 

"Take me, darling." Uriel coaxed, relaxing her grip around Michael's waist enough for the other angel to move. "I'm yours." Michael's breath caught in her throat, and she straightened up so she could more easily move her hips, relishing the slick slide as she pulled back and thrust solidly back in. Uriel gave a little whimper, clenching down around Michael's cock. "Again." Her eyes were wide and needy. "Darling, again." Michael did as she asked, soon setting a steady pace. 

Uriel reached down between them to stroke her clit in time with Michael's thrusts, murmuring praise for her partner, how good Michael felt inside her, how wonderful and loving she was. Michael pressed closer, and Uriel scattered kisses wherever she could reach - Michael's cheeks, her mouth, her jaw, her neck. "Yes, yes, yes." She breathed between kisses. "Right there, darling, right there." Michael had found an excellent angle, the head of her cock rubbing against a wonderfully sensitive spot inside her with every thrust. 

Michael could feel her climax building in her gut, and her hips stuttered. She wasn't thrusting so much as rutting, heading towards an inevitable collision. Uriel's legs were back around her waist, and she kissed her lover once more, before Uriel pulled away with a gasp. Michael almost swore as Uriel clenched down around her, sweet and soaking, and that was it - one, two, three more abortive little thrusts and Michael was coming, pressing her hips against Uriel's, burying herself as deeply as she could as the pleasure overwhelmed her.

Michael let herself go limp, and they rested for a moment, coming back down, catching their breath[2]. Eventually, Michael spoke. "Was that good?" 

"Mmm." Uriel pressed a kiss to Michael's cheek. "You were wonderful, darling. You're always wonderful. You take such good care of me." 

"That's good." Michael rolled over, curling into Uriel's side and pulling her closer. They lay together for a little while, Uriel absentmindedly rubbing Michael's arm. Michael mumbled something into Uriel's neck.

"Come again, darling?" Uriel turned to face her lover, stroking a thumb over her cheek. Michael leaned into the touch.

"I do love you. Even if I can't say it in public. Sometimes I worry this isn't enough for you. I worry that you'll leave me." 

“Oh, Michael.” Uriel coaxed Michael into her arms and stroked her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

"I hate that I can't be with you openly." Michael confessed into Uriel's shoulder. 

"We're supposed to be setting an example, darling. And Heaven can't afford to lose us." 

"I know, I know." Michael groaned. "Paragons of virtue and all that rot. It's just... I wish I could touch you. Just... casually. I want to be able to kiss you after a long meeting. I want to be able to come up to you in front of everyone and have you hold me. I hate having to treat this like a dirty secret."

"Someday, my darling." Uriel soothed. "Someday, when this is all over, I'll marry you again - properly, in front of everyone. I'll make you a ring, a bracelet, whatever you’d like. If you want, I'll even make you a shirt that says 'Property of Uriel'." Michael didn't laugh. Instead she clung tighter to Uriel. Her voice was wet, and strangely vulnerable as she continued.

"I don't want to wait. I want to be yours, right now. I want to belong to you. I want to be publicly, shamelessly yours." Uriel tipped Michael's chin up and kissed her, passionate and sensual and deeply, deeply loving.

“Here. Give me something softer, my darling.” Uriel cupped a hand around Michael’s groin. Michael shivered, and Uriel grinned as the flesh under her hand sunk back into Michael’s body, replaced by soft, slick folds. “Good girl. Now-" Uriel rolled Michael onto her back and settled between her thighs, sporting a cheshire grin. "Let me show you just how much you belong to me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. One of Michael’s favorite developments in undergarment technology were bras that unhooked from the front.[return to text]
> 
> 2\. When they played this game, they committed, heartbeat and breath and sweat and all.[return to text]


	8. Union

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/4446.html?thread=3314270).
> 
> The death of an eric does not mean the death of his memories. They need only be retrieved. No eric is an island, after all.

A Note On Eric: Eric exists as a single individual, multiple individuals, and a concept, all at once. erics are the independent tendrils of the larger mass. They are not the whole of Eric, but they are Eric, such as a cell is not the whole hand, and the hand is not the whole body, but both are the body, inexorably connected. A singular eric will think of himself in lowercase, and do the same for small groups of erics. A large enough group of erics is referred to in uppercase. 

~

eric looked down at the envelope on his desk. That was his handwriting - well, not _his_ specifically, but an eric's. It meant there was official Eric Business. He wondered what it was - _oop, coffee mug, duck_ \- Eric Business could range from a briefing, to an emergency redistribution. he picked his way over the assorted piles of crap [1], dodging projectiles, and made it to his supervisor's desk sans injuries. eric cleared his throat.   
"I need to be excused."   
"No." Vetis didn't even bother looking up from his paperwork. eric resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he slapped the envelope against the desk and repeated his statement.   
"I said, I need to be excused." Vetis tried to grab for the envelope, but eric pulled it back just in time. Vetis glared, but eric merely showed him the writing on the front. his supervisor's mouth tightened, and eric could see he was weighing the options. 

1) Let eric go, and have to reassign his quota, which would lead to Vetis having to deal with his subordinates' endless complaints while dodging their newly-revitalized attempts to discorporate him 

or 

2) Don't let eric go, and deal with _Eric_. 

"...fine." Vetis hissed. "Get out." eric didn't stick around long enough for Vetis to change his mind. 

~

eric opened the envelope once he was safely out of the copy office and out of sight. 

**_come to us_ **

The words echoed in his mind as much as he read them. eric felt an odd, yet comforting, familiarity slither through his bones. So that was the order of the day. he glanced around the empty hallway and slid the envelope into his jacket pocket. he hadn't been called back for... he didn't know how long it had been. 

* * *

Deep down in the depths of hell, there was an unassuming wooden door with a tarnished silver handle. It was old, very old, and most demons avoided it, with the quiet understanding that whatever was behind the door would hurt them very badly at best and was liable to consume them, corporation and essence and all, at its worst. This understanding was correct. Guesses as to what exactly was behind the door ranged from Satan's personal quarters to where Leviathan and Behemoth resided to some sort of abomination that had come out of Lilith's womb after she and Satan had experimented. These guesses were all incorrect. Behind the door was Eric's room. Not a room where erics stayed, but where Eric dwelled. The conceptual Eric, in all His glorious eldritch horror. 

eric stuck to the shadows, and made it to the wooden door without incident. After glancing around to make sure he was alone, he slid the envelope through the gap between the door and the frame, and then entered. There was a pile of bodies, or perhaps merely an amalgam of flesh and thought, in the center of the room, the boundaries undefined, made partly of reality and partly of some far off dimension, unaccessible to physical eyes. eric approached, letting himself sink into the comfortable haze. 

**_welcome_ **

Retrieval always felt strange, but no eric would pass it up. he reached out, and was met by a hand, or two, or maybe seven or ten or thirty, he wasn't sure. he could feel the warmth of the hands on his own, could vaguely sense what it was like to touch his own hand. Each eric had the feelings translated through his own nerves, and the reverberant, gossamer sensations of each of the other erics - a warm hand on a bare chest, feather-strokes of fingertips over quivering thighs, hesitant touches to glistening, silk-soft skin. he was still dressed, though that was rapidly changing. his clothes were being carefully, steadily removed, each inch of flesh gently caressed as it was revealed. A mouth met his, soft, a little dry. It was pleasant, lovely even, strawberry-sweet, both achingly familiar and entirely new. eric had never been kissed himself, never been touched like this, but other erics had, and their experiences were bleeding into his.

_~a suspiciously familiar redhead in what would one day become Britain, a very handsome gentleman in a discreet corner of Baghdad, a quick snog in a broom closet when two erics had gotten curious~_

The memories were getting sharper and more detailed as Eric brought their connection into a more and more perfect alignment. 

_~his feet weren’t touching the floor, but that concern took a backseat to the mouth currently pressed against his and the sharp teeth in that mouth,_

_~he was bleeding, Lucifer had buried his claws in Eric’s stomach and twisted, eric could taste blood, and then Lucifer’s mouth was on his, Lucifer’s tongue was in his mouth, he tried to struggle, but he couldn’t, not really, not with the puddle of blood spreading on the floor, not with the way his vision was dimming,_

eric felt warm hands rest on his bare hips, and he pulled back, noting the very mild chill on his lips, leaning against the chest of the eric behind him and letting out a breathless little gasp as his partner nuzzled into his neck. The larger consciousness of Eric wound its way around his chest, plucking the strings of his mind with surgeon-like precision. 

**_we have learned so much since last we met. we will show you._ **

eric's eyes fluttered shut, the shadows behind his eyes taking the shapes of his surroundings. he could see himself, through Eric's eyes, the slender lines of his body, and the hazy greens and blues of the chamber walls, the way the walls faded into a dark, cosmic expanse the farther into the chamber one went. Physical eyes were not meant to perceive such infinities, but Eric had always existed with one foot in the physical, and the other in the realm of thought. 

The hands on his hips moved lower, and he exhaled slowly, biting his lip. There was no reason to be nervous, and yet the smallest spark of doubt wriggled between his shoulder blades. The warm haze that came with Rejoining flowed down his nerves in a determined stream, tempering the edges of his fear and coaxing him further into oblivion. 

**_fear not. we will not harm what is ours._**

eric almost laughed at that bit of choice mockery, but the hand on his right hip slid down to the bare expanse of his groin and he whimpered instead. Despite the lack of outward genitalia, the skin there was sensitive, very sensitive, and just as receptive to the pleasure of touch. It was just the pads of fingers on skin, but eric wanted to squirm, he wanted something, he didn't know what he wanted, and the fingers just kept stroking, gentle as breath, soft as feathers. 

**_ours -_ **

the voices purred, one sound spoken by a thousand throats. 

**_ours, always. open to us and us alone._ **

"Always." eric whimpered, as much as he could form words past the haze that had enveloped him, completely and utterly. There was never any question. "Always." he felt a pressure at his groin, and he let Eric mold him as He pleased, pressing in, coaxing soft flesh into delicate folds. he could feel himself... not tingling, not quite, but there was a warmth gathering low in his belly. _Arousal_ , his mind helpfully supplied, though he knew it was a tidbit he had absorbed from a different eric. he could feel the echoes of wetness, deep inside him, coating a different eric's fingers. Those same fingers moved within him, stroking gently, feeling how soft he was, and he spread his thighs wider in invitation. the shadows of kisses being pressed some other eric's skin made him shiver. he could smell grass, the faint burn of alcohol, clean linen and soaps, cherries, cherries, cherries, 

_~the scent of cherries was thick and cloying, he couldn’t take a full breath, the tongue in his throat thickened and split in two and he was choking, he couldn’t breathe,_

_~he had been sent to lay with a devil worshiper as a cruel joke, but the joke was on the higher-ups, the man was so attentive, so attuned to every sigh, every moan of pleasure eric made, eric hadn't wanted to leave. the man smelled of soap and eric remembered that most of all. That, and the thing he could do with his tongue that no eric had never managed to replicate [2], _

_~he had lost a bet on Eric's orders, and had dutifully reported to Asmodeus, had laid back on the exam table and let them bind his wrists above his head and set his ankles up and apart, listened with detatched interest as the lecturer pointed out various features: the mons, the inner and outer labia, the vaginal and urethral openings, the clit and its hood - a cool, slippery finger had drawn him from his drifting, and he inhaled sharply as it slid inside him. the class had giggled while he shivered and tried to hold still,_

There were three fingers now, stroking come-hither, making their leisurely way deeper and deeper inside him, and he felt exceedingly full. He opened his eyes, just a touch, a slight tremble to his motions, but another eric saw him move and came to sit beside him, stroking his face before drawing him into a kiss. This eric tasted of chocolate, dark and rich, and his new partner’s tongue moved across his lips, coaxing and soothing in equal measure. eric parted his lips, and sank deeper into the contact, moaning quietly as his partner's tongue slid into his mouth. It was good, it was so good, and the exploratory fingers had found an exceptionally sensitive place, and he didn't protest as his body was shifted, as he was laid back, head resting in another eric's lap. 

_**Be still.** _

eric did as he was told, and closed his eyes again, trying not to shiver as the ghost of a tongue slid its way up his neck. The fingers inside him gave one more gentle thrust, and were carefully withdrawn. his own fingers echoed the slight chill. eric’s eyes snapped open again when something much larger than fingers pressed against him.   
  
_**Be still, and be open to us.**_

eric nodded, but he didn’t know who it was directed at. he was familiar with the mechanics, now, and he could picture other moments like this, but there was really no comparison to first-hand experience. 

_~The moon had been full, and the sky was clear, and the stars had been shining like silver. eric had been called by a group of women, and they had asked him for help in conceiving. He had acquiesced, recruited an additional half-dozen erics, and the seven of them had gone off to seduce a husband each. The man the originally summoned eric had picked was tall, and very broad, and had been almost frightening in his eagerness to toss eric onto the bed and fuck him. The man was... fine. Average in length and width and technique. Entirely unremarkable, and maybe even boring. The man had fallen asleep on top of him afterwards, and Eric had taken a vindictive joy in letting all his sheep loose before returning to the clearing,_

_~eric had spent the evening in Belphegor's employ, which had culminated in eric, now drunk on a frankly irresponsible quantity of wine, climbing on top of Belphegor and riding him - the enthusiasm eric showed would have been embarrassing if Belphegor had stayed awake. The Prince of Sloth had fallen asleep in the middle. of course, but he had stayed erect long enough for eric to find his own climax. He was tired and sore afterwards, but raiding Belphegor’s desk made up for it. he had found piles of sensitive documents, potential treaties between the commanding class, supply lists, a letter in Beelzebub’s hand, addressed to Gabriel, and ended in a very unprofessional manner,_

When he surfaced again, another eric was laying down beside him, moving a warm, soothing hand over his lower belly, and the eric whose lap he was occupying was carefully running their nails over his scalp. 

“Are you with us?” The eric in front of him cupped his cheek. 

“Yes.” eric’s mind was almost entirely occupied with processing the flood of memories, but he did his best to focus. “I’m here.”

“All right.” The other eric’s hand moved out of his range of vision, but then he could feel fingers carefully spreading him open, and the thickness from before pushing slowly, inexorably, inside. It was so much, even with how relaxed he was, and a whimper escaped him before he could swallow it back.

_**All is well. Every sensation is valuable, even pain, even fear.** _

eric nodded, and tried to relax, and the pressure came back, but whatever was pushing inside him wasn't as thick as before. The eric who tasted of strawberries had returned, and distracted him with another soothing kiss-

_~it was Samhain, and Dagon had let the eric posted in her office take the night off so long as his paperwork was finished, and eric had made sure it was [3]. He had gone up to Earth, and found his way to a back-alley door. He was welcomed in by a woman in black, and escorted to a small room, where he removed his clothes and accepted the offered leather collar and the rabbit upper-half mask. The collar was warm and comfortably snug around his neck as he was led onstage. The attendant had kissed him before he went up, and he could still taste wine as the bidding started. The air was smokey and hot,_

_~ her mouth was soft, so soft, a girl with big, green eyes, and dark hair, she had kissed him and promised him anything, anything, if he'd help her, if he'd be her first, anything to escape her betrothal, and he had helped her, and he was even sorry [4] when she was drowned the next month for witchcraft, she had been so young, and so pretty, and so, so, sad,_

_~he was on his way back to Eric when a Marquis had gotten bad news, and decided to take it out on the nearest eric. He held on to the information he had been sent to collect with everything he had, he couldn't breathe, his brain was shutting down, he scrabbled at the hands around his throat, tried to get the Marquis' mouth off of his, but everything was going dark, the combination to the safe in Beelzebub's back office was 712179512, he had to hold on to it, 71217-_

_**There. That is what we need. There is one more piece of information to find.**_

-and when eric focused back on what was happening, he found he was very comfortably full, and his partner had managed to sink all the way inside him. he let out a whimpering breath, reaching up, and tried to spread his thighs wider around his partner's waist. they came closer, and allowed eric to wrap himself around their chest, their breath warm against his ear.   
"Ready?"   
"Yes." eric breathed.   
"Good." his partner drew back, and then gave a gentle thrust. eric's toes curled, and he could feel himself clenching. "Just relax." eric nodded, and opened his eyes, blinking back tears.[5] Strawberry-eric leaned back in, curling against his side, and fingers danced their way down to his clit. he keened, biting his lip, he could feel the echoes of tight and warm around the penis he didn't have, hands on hips and mouths on skin- 

_~The Duke had laid him back against the warm straw, and shifted his legs open. “Hold still.” It hurt, he was still dry, and the Duke hit eric’s cervix with almost every thrust. eric thought he might have even been bleeding, but he breathed through it, ignored the itch of the straw underneath him, and afterwards the Duke had pulled eric into their lap and stroked his clit until eric was sobbing in pleasure,_

-his partner was thrusting steadily now, and the fingers on his clit were positioned perfectly, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure- 

_~he was up against the wall, and the larger demon was rutting into him like an animal, rough and unsteady. the things he did to get access to information. he'd continue to do this, of course, if it meant getting that coveted access, but he wished the demon would stop scraping his back against the wall, it hurt, it hurt, but he still felt so good,_

-eric cried out, and something in him **snapped** \- 

_~he came, and came, and came, he was aching and out of breath, and the angel thrusting into him snarled, sinking their teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, spilling inside him, hot and wet. All he had to do now was take a glance at their subconscious - their guard was down, and their orgasm would cover his tracks - and there it was. On dear, wasn't that a naughty little secret they had? In a moment, the angel pulled back, and they didn't meet his eyes. "Make it quick? Please?" They obliged, and the last thing eric felt was the fingers around his neck giving a sharp little twist,_

_**Perfect. Everything has gone perfectly.** _

-and everything went dark. 

~

Eric took him apart like a clockwork toy, bit by bit, pouring over every thought, every memory, every touch, the patterns of every single nerve impulse, like a scholar, and a collector, cataloguing each and every piece before storing them away in their proper places. When Eric was finished, He gathered all the pieces back together and carefully restored them. The eric who worked in the copy office wasn't quite the same as before, but he was very close, with fresh knowledge and delicious aches, blinking back into existence cradled in another eric's lap. 

**_We have done well._ **

The erics in the room gave a collective shudder. Eric was satisfied, and that brought more pleasure than even the strongest orgasm could produce. 

_**We are Legion.** _

* * *

_You've seemed tense. Agitated. I was wondering if I could do anything to help you._

_Why would I need your help?_

_...I want to help. I'm offering *anything*._

_...Why would you offer this? What do you get out of it?_

_I just... want someone to touch me in a way that doesn't hurt._

_...No one can know, do you understand me?_

_Yes, I understand. I won't tell. No one else will ever know._

_...say my name, sweetheart._

_...Michael._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Both metaphorical and literal. The demons in the copy office didn't exactly care if their familiars went to the bathroom on the floor.[return to text]
> 
> 2\. eric had refused to do his duty and slit the man's throat. he had been tortured quite severely for that, hadn't come back to Eric for centuries, and only then because Berith had been called away, and a different eric had managed to quietly sneak in and dispatch him.[return to text]
> 
> 3\. Dagon didn’t need to know that “eric” was really three different erics, and what she didn’t know would stay carefully hidden. [return to text]
> 
> 4\. Not that anyone who wasn't eric would ever find out. [return to text]
> 
> 5\. They weren't tears borne of pain or fear, just from an overwhelming flow of emotions. This was very common with Retrieval. [return to text]


End file.
